Learning to Let Go
by Dirtbag Chick
Summary: Sometimes we have to learn to let go of the person we thought we were, to embrace the person we have yet to become. But that doesn't mean that we have to do it alone.
1. Chapter 1

So my first attempt at a fan fiction. Sorry if it's not the best.  
This will be a Leon and Ashley story, since I really do love the pairing.  
This will be rated M for future sex scenes, language, and slight violence.  
**DISCLAIMER**: I unfortunately, do not own Resident Evil, that right goes to CAPCOM (insert dramatic sigh here)

Also, sorry for any errors, I looked over this like, a million times and never found any, but I could have over looked something, and the friend I had reading over this found nothing. But we are pretty incompetent sometimes :]

Any who, on to the fic!

* * *

Maybe all one can do is hope to end up with the right regrets

~Arthur Miller

* * *

_"Not my daughter! Please not my daughter!"_

_Leon silently held the pistol up. His eyes focused on the form of a small girl. Her hair was soft and long, messy, but beautiful in the way only a child's hair could be. Her body was small; he could imagine picking her up with one arm, taking her to her mother. But it was far too late. The girl looked up at him, and Leon understood. Her eyes were white, unseeing. Her mouth wide open, her tongue wagging, and she ran at him._

_"No! Have Mercy! Have mercy!" _

_Leon heard nothing. He took his time aiming. (Or was he hesitating, waiting for the last possible moment? Waiting for her to blink the death from her eyes and become a little girl again…)_

_"Oh God! Oh God no! No!"_

_Her sobs emerged, that rocked Leon to his very foundation. But he couldn't falter. No. This was something that had to be done. He opened his eyes a little wider; he wanted to take this all in. He felt his finger press the trigger, surprisingly cold, despite how long he had held the gun in his hands. The sound was deafening, so much so, that the woman was momentarily silent. And he heard it, more then he saw it._

_The sound of brute force ripping through tissue and skin. The blast of a skull shattering. Blood dropping like a gallon of water slamming into the pavement, the sound of slush. The body hitting the floor. The sound of a heart breaking._

_"No!" Feet ran right by him. But this time, he couldn't be professional enough to stop her. This much, he owed her. The woman dropped her knees, and cradled her daughter close. Her sobs were so painful, so loud, that Leon himself felt silent, warm tears run down his face. He didn't even know when he had begun to cry. And the woman looked up, and his body went numb._

_He looked into the eyes of his own mother. "How could you kill your own flesh and blood?"_

_He looked down and saw his own skin begin to pale, and start to decay. He felt his heart begin to stop, he smelled the stench of his own rotting flesh, and he looked into the eyes of his beautiful mother. And he relished as his teeth sank into her, he almost moaned at the feel of ripping her flesh apart, of tasting and chewing her skin. Of her warm blood dripping down his chin. And he stood tall and straight, turned his head and saw his own reflection._

* * *

His eyes snapped open, and he took in the deepest breath; like a drowning man whose head has just broken the surface of cold water. He was panting heavily; his body drenched in sweat. His blue eyes darted around quickly, as his fingers gripped his bed sheets. He was no longer in a dirty abandoned street, but in his own bed. His heart hammered in his chest. He turned to his side, and dropped out of bed, staggering to his bathroom. Everything was a blur to him, and before he knew it his plaid covered knees felt the coolness of the tile floor, and he was vomiting violently into the toilet. The sounds of his chokes, the gagging noises, bounced off the walls, and back to his own ears The sounds of him chocking and puking, the smell of it, God, it made him puke even more. He heaved for what seemed years, until his stomach was as empty as his heart, a matching pair.

When it hurt to breathe, and that salty feeling of blood lined his throat, he knew no matter how much he gagged, that nothing else was going to come out. Standing up, he flushed the toilet, placing the lid down silently. He walked to his sink, and looked up into the bathroom mirror, his breathing was normal, but his heart was still pounding, as if trying to assure him it was alive and pumping. Even alone, even after a nightmare, he would not allow himself to break down. To show any weakness. He was Leon S. Kennedy for God sakes. He was a professional. Showing emotion was not professional. (He had already broken that personal rule of his too many times).

He turned on the sink, full stream and stuck his mouth under the faucet. He gagged as the taste of bile was still burning on his tongue. Grabbing the green mouth wash, he didn't even bother measuring it. To hell with that, he put the bottle to his lips and took in as much as his mouth would allow him, and then swished it around. He bounced up and down, trying to take in the pain, and when his mouth felt like it was bleeding, blistering and on fire, he spit into the sink. It hurt, God did it fucking hurt, but it was enough to let him know he still was human enough to feel. He looked up into his mirror. He was still breathing a little hard, and his body glistened with slight sweat. He cocked his head to the side. His dark, dirty blond hair fell elegantly into his eyes. He stared at himself for God knows how long, almost as if trying to figure something out, before blinking lazily, and deciding what he really needed, was some fucking sleep.

He walked out his bathroom, flicking off the lights. Chris used to joke, calling him a dog, since he was able to stand in pitch blackness for only a mere second, before he could wander around, maneuver his way in the darkness, and not run into a single thing. Not make a single sound. But Leon knew better. What it made him was a ghost really. A mere imprint of what a human being used to be.

Leon walked back into him room, and sat on his bed. He buried his face into his hands, which were trembling, cold and clammy. His eyes were shut tight, and he felt shame build up in the pit of his stomach, even though he knew no one was watching. Leon had stared into the eyes of death himself, and never wavered once, but a dream, something that couldn't hurt him, had caused him so much fear. He was trembling from head to toe, he was still sweating, and his heart wouldn't stop pounding.

What frightened him the most, was not what he saw in his dream, but what he felt. He felt fear, sadness, even hunger. But when he shot the child, he felt nothing. It was routine. Even in his dreams, he was cold and stoic when it came to what he had to kill. And he realized that when a person lost their humanity and became a blood lusting zombie, he lost his own humanity, and became a killing machine. People blended easily, until it was almost like killing ants. He stared forward, looking at his walls. He didn't know when he lost his humanity, but he was wondering when he was going to get it back.

Could he get it back? Was it like getting a hair cut? It's gone in an instant, but surely, it'll come back, slowly, but it due time? He doubted that. Unlike everyone else he encountered, they still felt things. They still screamed, and got scared. They still cried, and laughed, and hurt. No, he was more of a zombie, then a human. He just has the luxury of being aware of himself. He fell back onto his bed, looking at his ceiling, his head tilting to the side, as the shadows danced, like moving paintings before his very eyes, until all he saw was blackness. Until all he felt was the weight of sleep on him, like a comfortable blanket; like the world on his shoulders.

* * *

The prologue is now completed!  
Chapter one will be put up shortly (whenever I stop being lazy and get around to finishing it, damn college...)  
R&R you guys :]  
Until next time!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: Hey there guys! So you are totally allowed to throw rocks at me for not updating (I kid, don't do it)  
I'm soo sorry that I neglected this story D:!  
Even I am disappointed in myself. Bad me! You bitch  
Damn I'm so mean to me.  
ANYWHO, To make up for it, I made this chapter super fucking ridiculously long. They won't all be this long (I think, I don't know, I usually go on a tangent with my stories 3)  
But it's good I swear! (Ok, whatever, I'm biased. Sew me)  
Sorry for any minor typos and errors! I read over it and didn't catch anything.  
Also, I need a BETA, so yea XD  
I should get on that

And because I talk shit, DON'T sew me!  
**Disclaimer:** Unfortunately, all rights are reserved to CAPCOM, all I own are my own ideas. Which are still, pretty lame.

And now! On to the fic!

* * *

Any idiot can face a crisis - it's day to day living that wears you out.

~Anton Chekhov

Leon was completely blinded, despite the fact that his eyes were still closed. Is there anyway to close your eyes even tighter? He opened them, and immediately cursed himself for doing so. The sun was streaming from the window, hitting him full on the face. His eyes immediately watered from the momentary strain and hurt. He wanted to punch himself for forgetting to close the blinds. He always forgot. Probably because he was never home long enough to remember the little things, like closing blinds, or cleaning up his desk.  
Buying food.  
Hanging up photos.  
Making things homey.

Belonging.

It was a long list that he had to remind himself to write on the little post it notes on his fridge, but not now.

He groaned in a loud, annoyed way, before rolling over and burying his face in his pillow. Now, Leon was not anti-morning. He would wake up, stumble around for a bit, but get his shit together, without complaining or doing the whole '5 more minutes' routine. But today, he didn't feel like even thinking, let alone getting out of bed. Christ, he hadn't missed a day of work in 7 fucking years, not even for vacation. Not when he was sick, or when Angela dumped him. Not when he was too scared to go out in the world and be Leon S. Kennedy again. But today, no. Screw that. He was going to take a personal day, and just sit on his ass all day, and watch cartoons and eat whatever that fuck he wanted, without thinking if it will affect him later in life. Who gives a shit, a man deserves some Fruity Pebbles every now and then.

But, let's be honest. He worked for the goddamn government, as an agent. He wasn't just some pencil pusher, sitting in his little cubicle, waiting for 12 o'clock to roll around so he could beat the mad rush to the lunch line to get the best slice of pizza at the cafeteria. As appealing as that sounds from time to time. Really. Sometimes, normal is just a nice dream.

Sitting up, he scratched the back of his head and looked at his digital clock, and rolled his eyes. 6:27 am. 3 minutes ahead of schedule. He fell back onto his bed, and covered himself with his blankets. He immediately felt hot, sticky and sweaty. It was almost summer, so the sun came out sooner, and sank even later.

'Screw it' he thought, a 3 minute head start wasn't going to throw him out of whack or anything. Plus this gives him 3 extra minutes to pick out an outfit. One must always look their best. He grinned momentarily at that thought, and rolled out of bed. Stretching like a cat, he arched his back, and reached towards the sky. He then stood still for a moment, trying to get the last bit of sleepiness out his body and mind, before he started to walk. No need to stumble and slam his head on the wall, knock himself out and die.

Once he was sure his life wasn't hanging on the delicate thread of his ability to navigate in a post sleep like state, he shuffled to the shower, dragging his feet across the floor. The sound of his bare feet dragging across the hardwood floor of his room into the bathroom was all that was heard. He remembered Angela would wake up and glare at him. Leon never got why that noise bugged her. It was just shuffling feet. He wasn't running nails across a chalk board at 3 in the morning or anything. Besides, he never glared at HER was she was the one who would have to crack every fucking bone in her body after she woke up, walked into a room, ate, drank, sneezed, blink. God, he just learned to tune it out. He thought the habits that people had is what made them special, unique. Well, according to Angela, what made him different simply made him _too _different.

He walked into his bathroom, flipped on the light and undressed quickly. Leon was pure muscle. He wasn't bulky or huge, like a body builder. No. When wearing certain clothing, he looked lean, a little skinny. But all those years of running around, training, it left him with almost zero body fat. According to the women in the office (the ones that always followed him around, giggling and squealing, twirling their hair around their little finger, their cloths tight, and cut too low or too high.), he looked like a model in a Calvin Kline ad or something. He had the 6 packs abs, and his hips did that 'V' thing when his jeans were a little low. He never really understood the appeal of it to be honest. Why did women think he was so good looking? He certainly didn't think he was. He didn't go out of his way to look this way; it just tends to happen when one is running for their fucking life every goddamn second of ever goddamn day. Maybe women liked that whole, 'constantly in danger' look? But he suppose, he was just what women wanted. Physically anyways. Emotionally, mentally, well, those were two completely different things. Women didn't follow him around to find out how his day was, that was for damn sure.

He blasted on the water, cold. No hot water. It would just make him drowsy. Besides, he had been taking cold showers for so long, they didn't really bother him. Much.

He pulled the faucet so the shower head would go off. He didn't even give himself a second to think about it, and just hopped in. It was like a thousand needles prickling his body. He took in a deep breath, it was almost painful. He stood under the spray of the cold water for a minute or two, until his body adjusted to the temperature, and the reached for his shampoo bottle. It was unscented. Some shit in a blue bottle, he didn't know the name, he just read the front label when he was grocery shopping. Unscented, stops dandruff, blah blah blah. Who cares, as long as he didn't walk about smelling like a fucking fruit salad, he was just fine.

He cursed loudly, as the shampoo got in his eye, like it did every morning. You think a grown man who can handle every type of weapon imaginable, would know how to stop shampoo from getting in his eyeballs right? Wrong. Leon cussed and hissed as he rubbed his face, annoyed that he will again be walking around, with pink, stinging eyes, and the inability to stop blinking 50 thousands times a second. He grumbled angrily as he grabbed his soap bar, it too was unscented. There's just something completely unappealing about a man smelling like a fruit. Christ, what an awkward situation.

"Hey Leon man, how you doing?"

"I'm good dude, I just tried this new body wash."

"I noticed, pink grapefruit right?"

"Yeah man, it's freaking amazing on my skin."

"I'm partial to tangerine mango blast myself, dude."

"Ah well, to each his own. Hey before we head out, wanna go talk about our feelings and paint out toe nails bright pink and wonder if Tim across the hall wonders what I think about at night? Maybe we can pop in The Notebook, and have ourselves a good cry."

Leon snorted. Yeah, that'll be the day. He preferred smelling like just soap, thank you very much.

Leon then hopped out the shower, after his cleaning was done. That cold water was getting to him. The frigid atmosphere within his tiny shower was beginning to steal his breath. Turning off the faucet, he wrapped towel around his waist, it had a huge picture of Mickey Mouse on the front. Claire had gotten it for him when she went to Disney World last summer, as a joke really. But Leon actually truly appreciated the gift. The towel was soft, and Mickey, well, he was cool in Leon's book.

He remember Angela hiding the gift everywhere she could think of, screaming all the while that Leon should not be receiving gifts from other women. Leon watched her with curiosity dancing in his eyes. The next day, she walked into the bathroom, only to find him brushing his teeth, the Mickey Mouse towel hanging around his hips. She left him the next day. As he recalled, he walked into his home, only to find all traces of her gone. Like she was never there to begin with. Really, it wasn't all that off the mark. She left a note. He threw it away without reading it. He knew what it would say, he told himself. It reality, he just didn't want to know.

He supposes it was the final straw that broke the camel's back. And as ridiculously cruel, and as much of an asshole as it makes him sound, he considers the towel to be his 'lucky towel' ever since that day. He even went out of his way to take Claire to a ridiculously nice restaurant that cost him so much fucking money, Leon thought he'd have to go take a second mortgage on his house, or sell his car, or a kidney or some shit. But hell it was worth it. He literally felt free. But that was after the initial, 'depression' wore off.

As he recalls, that very night, he drank himself stupid, alone in his living room, only to vomit violently into his kitchen sink, and then black out against the couch. He awoke the next morning, with no sign of a hangover, feeling heavy and depressed, and like the world was pushing down on his chest, until he thought he would physically break. That his heart would literally shatter within his chest. He remembered hyperventilating. This was different from Ada. Ada was a fantasy more then anything. He had never been with Ada, he never had Ada love him in the middle of the night. Ada was never his. But Angela, Angela was his for a moment. She was his _girlfriend._ He remember feeling slightly giddy and nervous the first night he took her out, he remember his heart beating a bit faster in his chest, with his covers hanging loose off his hips, as he kissed her neck, and had her arch her back, pushing against him as they had sex for the first time.

But he was left alone again, with only himself as company. He could taste his despair like bitterness on the tip of his tongue.

He remembered going to masturbate in his bathroom. To this day, he doesn't really know why. Perhaps, in his own fucked up way, he was trying to give himself a 'pick me up'. All it did was leave him feeling emptier then before, as shame, guilt and depression mingled into his stomach, like some sort of 'fuck you' cocktail. He didn't even cum. It didn't matter. He had gone soft the second he reached his hand into his pants.

Shaking his head, clearing them of all past thoughts and actions, Leon shuffled back into his room.

He didn't really care what he wore; as he blindly reached into his closet, yanked out a shirt without looking at it, and tossed it on his bed. It fluttered momentarily before landing, like a flag of defeat. Of Surrender. Maybe it was.

He yanked out some plain blue jeans, tossing them on the bed, before doing his daily routine. He ignored his hair, which was wet and clumped, water dripping from the tips, looking like falling diamonds. Walking to his bathroom, he began to brush his teeth

Starring into the mirror, the foam gathering around his mouth, he looked like a rabid dog. He stared harder, the sounds of growling, and snarling, dogs barking, dark allies in a long forgotten city, his legs aching from running as they threatened to catch up, flashed before his eyes, like a sudden gust of wind, it almost knocked him off his feet. He looked down, and continued to brush away. He smirked to himself, wasn't he a little too young to be having PSD? Shit he was 29 years old. Not some vet. He spat into the sink.

"Actually," he mumbled to himself, his voice bouncing off the walls in the bathroom and slamming into his own head, making his head hurt. The echo mocking him, whispering secrets and telling him truths he'd rather not bother to know. "I am." Huffing, he dragged himself into his room. He dropped the towel somewhere in the short journey, and allowed himself to be naked for a moment or two. Leon didn't particularly care too much for being in the nude. It didn't bother him, but he wasn't exactly ripping his cloths off every 4 seconds either. Just like everything else in the world, it was what it was. And to be honest, it's not like anyone lived with him that would bitch about a wet Mickey Mouse towel in the hallway, or the fact that he was bare ass naked.

Slipping on his cloths and putting on deodorant, Leon walked out, refusing to look at himself in the mirror. Not like he had anyone to impress. Besides, you don't want to look to long. You might start to see things that you wish you hadn't.

He walked by the kitchen, grabbing his car keys on the way out. He wouldn't be eating breakfast again this morning. The pain in his stomach, the constant growls, it distracted him from paying to close attention the horrors written in reports. To agent, work was work. Don't get personally involved. Leon couldn't look at a report of attacks, without fighting the urge to scream his head off. Just another thing that made him different.

He wondered to the black Land Rover in his driveway, not his car of choice, but who was he to complain. It got him from point A to point B, and shit, that's all a car should really be. Just a method of transportation, who gives a flying fuck if it was imported from Mars, or wherever people are getting their cars from now-a-days. To be honest, he didn't even buy this car. It was a gift from the President, for saving Ashley. How nice of him.

At the thought of Ashley, Leon paused in front on the door of the driver's side. He missed her. After he brought her back from Spain, he went and worked in a different branch. He was still working for the government, just not in the white house. He was more of a field guy then a body guard anyways. He remembered 3 days after the return of Ashley, being called to the White House. He remembered the President slapping him on the back, talking to him in a jolly voice. He remembered not hearing a word, and glancing at Ashley through the corner of his eye. He remembered she caught him looking, and smiled and threw him a wink. He remembered his blood going hot, his face turning pink and his stomach tighten. He looked away at that moment and thought of Chris naked; hopping it would stop him from getting an erection. It did. Thank God for Chris.

The President did a grand and marvelous 'Ta Da!', as he presented Leon with the automobile. Leon stared in shock for a moment, before immediately doing 'perfect gift etiquette.', which is were you thank the giver profusely, and insist that you don't need it, and that it was no trouble. The President slapped him hard on the back again, sending him reeling forward. Ashley snorted, and looked away, hiding her grin. Leon glared at her playfully. She looked up at him and smiled. They locked eyes. Time stood still. Leon heard the President talking to him, but he was still starring at Ashley, nodding every now and then, a cheap trick to let the other man know he was listening, when really he was checking out his daughter.

Leon smiled to himself at the memory, and opened the door and slid into the driver's seat. He closed the door with a nice slam, but he didn't put the key in the ignition. He merely stared blankly ahead, as the world melted before his very eyes. Like a movie. A dream. A moment in time where life was okay. He looked up and closed his eyes, as thoughts and Ashley invaded his head, like a parasite. Like fire eating up gasoline. He thought of her. Like he always did.

* * *

"You're late." Leon ignored the gruff voice and strolled right by. He knew he wasn't late. Chris was just being a bitch, like he is, every morning. Just to fuck with him. Cause really, who doesn't like to fuck with the guy who is a little more brain then brawn?

Leon casually strolled into the BSAA headquarters building. Now Leon is not REALLY a member of the BSAA, but considering his extensive knowledge and personal experience with Umbrella and things of that nature, when he wasn't doing jobs for the Government, he was more the often at Headquarters. To be honest, he preferred it. They had a shooting range and training grounds. And he had his own office. Can you say 'climbing up the social ladder?'

Leon heard the smacks of shoes getting louder and louder, until he felt a presence and a slight shadow next to him. He turned and saw Chris. Chris turned to him, and grinned brightly, slightly lowering his eyes. He had about 3 inches on Leon, and about 60 pounds (give or take a pound). Where as most men feel immediately emasculated simply being in Chris' presence, Leon merely shrugged it off. Chris had his strengths, and Leon had his. Chris had his weaknesses, and Leon had his. No sense bitching and moaning about shit you can't really change, like height for example. Besides, Chris was honest and good hearted, almost to a fault. Where as most people who would be forced to go through what they went through (Leon included) became a little more cynical, a little more reserved, Chris never lost his sense of self. He was still full of positive energy, this need of justice. The need to help people. He never even acted like the macho man, he had no problems letting a woman take the lead and boss him around. In fact he welcomed it. Chris loved watching other people flourish on the battle field.

"Hey, Kennedy."

"Hey, Chris. Having a good morning?"  
He watched Chris shrug his broad shoulders. "Can't complain I guess. You?"

Leon looked straight ahead. "Same old, same old."

They continued this ideal chit chat as the strolled together down the halls. They made quite the pair, the two of them. Where as Chris was all brute strength and pure muscle, Leon was all speed. But they were incredible at what they did. They never botched a mission yet, and they were considered 'veterans and pros' at this. They were good at what they did. And they knew it. But they weren't conceited about it, they were trained for this. It was what it was. This was really the only way they knew how to be.

Leon glanced at Chris after awhile. He was just a guy to talk to really. Leon didn't have many friends, none except for Claire. He had people he worked with, and he was friendly with them. But they weren't people you could call at 3 in the morning, just to let yourself know that no matter what, you had somewhere there to catch you when the world began to slip from underneath your feet. But the funny thing was, he felt like Chris was one of those people, who'd do that for anyone. But who would do that for him? He furrowed his brow. Why the fuck was he thinking about this shit so early in the morning?

"Hey, what are you doing later man? Wanna grab a beer?"

Leon was taken aback. No one invited him anywhere, with the exception of Claire. They assumed he was moody and brooding. They also assumed that he'd use that mouth of his to be sarcastic and condescending. Really, he wasn't THAT much of an asshole. No matter how much he looked like one with his pretty boy haircut (as Chris so affectionately called it).

"Sure…" He flinched at the dryness in his voice. What if Chris caught it, and decided he was some prick? But he just grinned and clapped him hard on the back, sending him stumbling forward.

"Cool, catch you after work man." And with that Chris just walked down the halls to his own section of the building, reserved specifically for BSAA agents, not just agents, like Leon is. He watched the older man disappear around the corner, and found himself suddenly feeling a new pressure inside his stomach. It wasn't until he reached his office that he realized what it was.

Joy. He was happy. Happy that someone reached out to him, even if it was just a beer. That someone was willing to take some of his load and carry it around, even for a few hours. Leon fidgeted slightly in his seat. The prospect of spending an evening with a 'friend' left him giddy and excited. Like when you are 5 years old, and your parents introduce you to their friends' kid. You suddenly saw all the possibilities. Camping in the backyard, and making a club house with a crayoned 'no girl's allowed' sign taped to the front. Although he doubted he and Chris would be sitting next to each other eating candy, playing Mario Kart all night, the same idea was still there. The idea of making a life long friend. Someone who you didn't feel obligated to impress, someone who just took you for you, and just got it, without you even saying it.

Claire was great, don't get him wrong. But still, she was a girl. Sometimes, Leon found it difficult to tell her what was on his mind for that reason. He would feel embarrassed and self conscious and immediately clam up, and throw her off with one of his trademark smirks, and some smart ass comment. He couldn't talk to her about Ashley, or about Ada, or even about Angela. Sure he vented and ranted to her about Angela, but he never got to in depth. He again felt, like he couldn't tell her. He didn't know why. She was his best friend in the entire world. But there was still this wall he had up. These feelings and thoughts, that he shouldn't taint Claire with what he was thinking and dealing with. It was fine though. She didn't tell him everything either. It was cool. He didn't want to hear about periods and shit like that. And he doubted she wanted to hear about his sex life, or lack there of.

Leon glanced at his clock. 9:14 am. He stared forward, and then went on his computer, and logged into his e-mail. His eyes narrowed slightly. 76 unread messages. He double clicked the inbox, and saw that they were all about completing reports, starting reports, new missions, old missions, new jobs, old jobs, meetings and so on and so on. He then shifted his eyes slightly to his door and he saw his mail being forced under the door, and the slight grunting and curses from the delivery person. He watched and counted each envelope and folder that slide through. 12. They were probably, more then likely, all cases that he had to file, report on and fill out. He turned and stared back at his computer screen at that exact moment, his phone began to ring loudly. He didn't answer it. He didn't bother. He'll just say he was in the bathroom, taking a huge dump or something. The corner of his lips twitched. The answering machine picked up. 'You have reached Leon S Kennedy, I am not here at the moment. Leave your name, number and message, and I shall return your call as quickly as possible."

"Leon? It's me, Hunnigan, I have another case for you, I am going to e-mail you the details. I really think you should take it, it's-"

Whatever it was Leon didn't hear it. He slammed his forehead into his desk with a loud thump. God, what a fucking day. And it wasn't even 10 yet. Leon looked up, and stared dumbly at his computer screen which had gone into screen saver mode, the colorful pipes dancing across the screen. Was it too late to call in sick?

* * *

Leon stared dumbly at the food in front of him. What to eat? Shit that looks like a hamburger. Or shit that looks like mac and cheese? Decisions, decisions. He had survived the morning by hiding in his office, and making origami. Thank God for Google. Even if his crane looked exactly like his hat, he felt pretty accomplished. Leon reached for a salad in a plastic container, and felt a sudden smack on his ass. He jumped slightly and turned around, and saw the bright blue eyes, and even brighter smile of Claire. "Hey there hot stuff."

Leon rolled his eyes. "Christ Claire. Careful with the goods. I'm not as smart as you are. This face and body is all I have going for me." His whole body went warm and fuzzy and his stomach did tiny back flips as she laughed out loud, her eyes shinning with amusement. It always filled him with pride when he was able to make Claire laugh out loud like that. "You joining me for lunch? Or are you gonna dash my hopes and dreams and sit with the popular group?" She hit him playfully on the arm.

"Don't I always eat lunch with you? I even give up the opportunity to eat with my brother."

Leon looked behind him and looked at Chris, who was at a table, made entirely of women. "He looks heartbroken about it too man. Shit, you should go there and wipe away his tear- Ow!" He rubbed his arm, which had just been on the receiving end of one of Claire's punches. And let it be known, the girl had a mean punch. They went threw the line, Leon being the gentleman that he is, paid for Claire's lunch (Shit that looks like mac and cheese and a blue Gatorade) and his lunch (salad and a ). She nudged him with her shoulder, and the grinned at each other momentarily, like school children that are excited at the idea of seeing each other after having to deal with Mr. Johnson's boring ass lecture and foul breath.

They walked by Chris' table, who immediately caught his eye. "Hey Kennedy! We still on for tonight!" Leon laughed slightly.

"Only if you can drink your sister under the table."

Claire looked up at him. "He can't."

They all shared some secrete look, and went back about their business. Leon sat casual at a table that was smaller then the others. Claire sat on the opposite side of him. They started on their food, neither saying anything to each other for a few minutes. Leon looked up at her. She was gorgeous. He always thought so. In fact, there was a time when he pondered what it would be like to be with Claire, really be with her. What it would feel like to kiss her, and hold her, and make love to her (one does not _fuck_ Claire Redfield, not unless they want her incredible hulk of a brother smashing that fucking boulder of a fist into their mouths). However, that thought left as soon as it popped into his head. He felt that it was more of the idea that enticed him. The fact that they survived something so horrific. It was like latching on to your rescuer. It was like what he thought Ashley felt for him. Almost exactly. His eyes glossed over, and he quickly looked down, forcing those thoughts from his head, and shoved a forkful of semi brown lettuce into his mouth. Fucking Gross. If the zombies didn't get them, food poisoning would.

"So…" He looked up at Claire, still munching on his disgusting salad. He swallowed hard, and made a face, before grabbing his packets of ranch dressing. He glanced up at her again, to let her know he was listening. "When did you and my brother get so buddy buddy?"

Leon raised an eyebrow as his packet ran out, and then reached for another. "The same day you threw a box of tampons at my head, and I realized I really needed to rethink my life choices." He smirked as she rolled her eyes at him.

"Well that'll teach you to think before you open that fat mouth of yours." He flashed her one of his most charming smirks. It however, had no effect on her. She knew him to well and too long to fall for those charms. "But seriously. I mean, I know you guys talk, but I didn't think you were like, guy friends. Not that it's bad, he needs more of those. All he has are like, chick friends."

Leon stared at her blankly. "Well I mean, it's just going to grab a few beers ya know? We probably aren't even gonna talk about anything special. Just typical guy stuff."

She stared just as blankly back at him. "What's typical guy stuff?"

"Tits and vagina" He ducked as she threw one of his ranch packets at his head.

"Leon!"

"Claire?"

She frowned at him, but he could see the amusement in those beautiful eyes of hers. "I mean, it's not bad. But I'm just not used to you guys, hanging out. The last time you two spent time together outside of work, was for my house warming party." Leon stared at her. Where the fuck was she going with this? "Look Leon," he stared at her again, sitting up a little straighter. "I know it's hard for you to talk to me about certain stuff, ya know? I am a girl, and you're a guy. And even though we tell each other most things, we don't tell each other everything. I just, well, what I am trying to say is, like, I know." She looks up. "You're my best friend in the whole world, and even I know that, you need some male friends in your life. I'm…happy that it's Chris though. Like, he's my only family, and you are practically like family too. It just…it makes me feel more at ease. I mean, you keep everything locked up inside, you think I don't know. But I know. And I know that you wanna tell someone about it, and it sucks that it can't be me, because I know, that there are things, I won't even begin to understand, no matter how hard I try. But…if you ever need me, I'm here. And…" she looked up at him now, Leon's breath caught in his throat, which was tightening rather uncomfortably, "I've had Chris to talk to all my life, he's a good listener. Don't feel like you have to hold anything back. Your secrets are safe with him."

She smiled brightly, a little unsure. "Jesus, I'm sorry about that. I was trying to be nosy, and ended up going all therapist on you, and to be honest, I'm not even to sure what I was saying. Not that I was just saying shit just to say it, bu-"

She immediately was silenced as Leon leaned over and pressed his soft lips against her cheek. She stared at him as he pulled away, and caught those ice blue eyes, full of warmth. The smile tugged across his handsome face. "Claire, thanks. But no matter how much I tell your brother, even the things I can't tell you, you'll always be my best friend."

She smiled at him, "Really?"

He grinned and nodded, "Really, really. But if you ever wanna talk about tits and vagina, let me kno-OW!" The loud thunk of a half full bottle of Gatorade colliding with his head was all that was left to be said between them about that particular conversation. A perfect way to end a lunch, even if it would result in food poisoning later.

* * *

Leon stared at his clock. His phone ran again, he picked up the receiver and then slammed it down, hanging up on whoever was on the other end. No way. Closing time was in 2 minutes. He wasn't taking any more calls. And you can fucking quote him on that. His leg jiggled in annoyance. Why was it that time fucking dragged on, when you wanted it to speed up? He grumbled, and forwarded his phone, and stood up. What was one fucking minute. Really? There wasn't going to be an outbreak at 5:59 pm because Leon couldn't hold his patience. He knocked on his wooden desk anyway just in case. As he hurried out the hall, and power walked down the hall, he nearly ran over 3 people. Didn't these fuckers know he had somewhere to be?

As he ran out the building and into the parking lot, he saw Chris leaning casually against his car. He took a deep breath. Don't look eager Leon. Don't look like a loser. He walked up to him. "Hey."

Chris looked up from his phone, and smiled, "Hey yourself. You ready to go? I parked over there." He indicated by jabbing his thumb over his shoulder. "So just follow me, cool? I know this shitty ass bar with a juke box." He grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkled, the only sign that he was getting a bit older.

Leon nodded, and watched him walk towards his car. A black jeep. How very Chris. Leon almost snorted at how typical it seemed, and slid into his own car. He turned on the car, and immediately the sounds of the Beatles blasted in his car. What can he say? Leon didn't really like the music of today. His radio was always stationed to the oldies station. He glanced up in his rear view mirror and caught Chris indicating with his hand to follow him, and he began to drive off, and then flipped him the bird. Leon rolled his eyes, and backed out of his spot, and followed him.

He was still feeling giddy, and it made him so goddamn annoyed. What was he, a fucking girl on a date? He scowled to himself and made a promise. He wasn't going to look at himself in the mirror as he was getting out of the car. No matter how much he thinks his hair is sticking up in weird angles. It's a fucking beer, not an arranged marriage. Besides, if he was to go gay (not that he ever would mind you, he didn't even like to look at himself naked) it wouldn't be for Chris. Talk about being the fucking chick. Besides, he could crush Leon with his pinky toe. Leon shuddered at the thought. He really needed to get out of the house more.

He was so consumed in his thoughts of not having sex with Chris, that he almost missed him turning. He quickly put on his blinker and followed him into a…shitty ass bar. Well, what do you know? He-who-lifts-a lot was telling the truth. Not that it surprised him. Leon parked next to him and got out, catching his reflection in the mirror. Fuck, there goes that promise. He'll hate himself later.

Chris hopped out his car, and strolled over to him casually. "Come on."

Leon nodded dumbly, not really trusting himself to open his mouth. He's probably squeak or some shit. He walked behind him, letting Chris take the lead. He had no idea where the fuck he was going, or where Chris liked to sit. This was his show. Leon was just along for the joy ride, of male bonding. Fun fun.

The moment he entered the bar, the stench of booze, sweat, piss, sex and vomit hit him like a brick wall. It was nauseating and honestly, he would take the stench of rotting flesh over this any day. He looked at Chris, who was looking around, his arms folded. He then jerked his head towards a booth that Leon didn't even notice through the haze of the smoke. Leon hated smoke. Did he ever mention that? What a fucking disgusting habit. He made a face and followed Chris.

This place was a piece of shit. If this was the olden days, he'd stone the owner for having such a shitty establishment. The walked side by side, and again, the made such a duo. Heads turned to stare at them. It was obvious. These weren't guess to fuck with. Even when walking into a bar, they both were alert. They scanned the crowd, and without even thinking twice, would stare someone down. It's not that they were assholes or anything. But years of constantly being on the bottom, of constantly being in danger, had left them with armor they weren't entirely too sure how to take off.

Leon slid into the booth, and the smell of vomit was so strong, he gagged slightly. Chris smirked. Leon glared. He knew what he was thinking, 'S'wrong Kennedy? Can't take a little puke?' Well no you fucking bulking mass, I can't.

"I'll get us some drinks." Chris walked towards the bar and this Left Leon alone, again. Even though Leon was used to being on his own, it didn't mean he liked it. He felt even more awkward when he was alone then with another person. He didn't know how to entertain himself. How to keep himself occupied so he wouldn't get lost in the tar pit that was his own mind. He looked next to him, only to catch a group of men sneering at him.

"The fuck you looking at pretty boy?"

Leon raised an eyebrow. He wasn't one to really start a bar fight brawl. Even when he was drunk, he still didn't let snide remarks get to him. Leon actually liked witty banter between himself and his prey. Also, Leon didn't deal with drunk people. He just didn't. They are like 3 year olds with the mind mentality of a rock and the ego of the Devil himself. They all thought they were fucking Superman, starting fights at any little thing. Sighing, Leon shifted and looked forward.

"Ha, the fucking homo is scared. Hey pretty boy! I'm talking to you!"

Oh goody, the gay jokes. Why always the gay jokes? Maybe it was the hair. People seemed to really dislike his hair style, which is one of the reasons Leon liked it so much. Huffing, he blew his bang out of his face, and spread his legs a little wider, slouching in his seat and placing an arm over the back of the booth, getting comfortable. He could hear the guy and his jeering friends, screaming insults at him. They were drunk. He could tell. 'Shit faced' might as well have been tattooed on their foreheads.

He turned his head slowly and looked at him. When Leon wanted to, he could look dangerous. He could look like a stone cold killer, and if you thought about it, he might as well be. He's unloaded bullets into so many heads, watching brain matter land on his own clothing and skin, he'd make even the most dangerous criminal whimper with his horror stories. His ice blue eyes stared at them. They were full of threatening and malice. Enough was enough. Leon was not a people person. This is exactly why. He hoped an outbreak would happen right then and there, so he could get rid of his new little pest problem.

They immediately silenced. Leon looked like a guy who was towing the line between insanity and bat shit fucking crazy. He stared for a long time, his eyes burning holes into their minds.

"We got a problem here?"

The men and Leon looked up at the gruff voice. It was Chris. He had two beer bottles in his hands. He was looking down at them. Now, he wasn't looking quite as deadly as Leon was looking, but when you had muscles that could crush someone's head every time you flexed, you didn't really need to work too hard on looking intimidating. It just came with the territory.

The men mumbled no's, and Chris walked past them and slid into the side opposite of Leon.

"Shit man, you've been here 5 minutes and you're already making friends? I for one, am jealous, ." Chris smirked at him, placing a hand on his heart.

Leon snatched the beer from Chris' grip, glaring the whole time. "Well, when I see a cute guy I can't resist."

Chris chuckled at him, and Leon immediately felt himself flush. Usually when he cracks horrible jokes, they are for his own pleasure. Just to keep himself sane. But when someone else laughs at something he said, it fills him with a strange pleasure. Like he, for a moment, filled someone with joy, something that he, ironically, couldn't do with himself.

Silently they took swigs from their beers. Leon fidgeted in his seat. He was not good with just sitting around when he knew there was an alterative motive floating around somewhere. Chris raised his eyebrow, "Hey man, you want me to change the song on the jukebox?"

He wanted to say sure, cause really, who the fuck wants to listen to Lady Gaga while getting drunk. Granted it'll make you want to get more drunk to tune her out, but that would just be in hopes of getting alcohol poisoning so you could die and get relief. He wanted to tell him to pick a good tune, like something from CCR. Instead, what came out was, "I'd rather know why you invited me out."

He flinched. Smooth Leon, real smooth. Interrogate the guy who apparently punched a boulder into a fucking volcano. And no matter how hard headed Leon was, his skull was a lot softer then a boulder.

"Isn't it obvious dude? I have a man crush on you."  
"No one likes a smartass."  
"I guess it does explain why you are so unpopular around the office."  
"Fuck you Chris."  
"Mm, you gotta buy me dinner first."

Leon was getting really annoyed with this now. He had asked for a legitimate answer, and instead got fucking jokes. Is this what his enemies feel like when he does the same shit to them? The undesirable rage to slam their heads so hard into a brick wall they'd make a crater? He immediately felt disgusted with himself for having gotten so giddy about this little bar get together.

"I'm being serious…"  
"I know you are."

Leon glanced up at him, his eyes were trained on his knuckles that were slowly turning white as he gripped his sweating beer bottle harder and harder. His impatience growing smaller and smaller. It's been doing that a lot lately. Perhaps because he was faced with death so many times, he sees time not getting anything done as wasted. Or maybe he was just a self centered prick. Who really knew?

Chris took a swig from his beer, but he was looking to the left. Not looking at Leon at all, but Leon knew he had Chris' full attention. He shifted in his seat again.

"Chris, look man, it's not that I don't wanna get to know you or anything. But we coulda done this shit at work you know? But I know you wanna talk to me about something, so what is it?"

Chris looked at him. "You really are a perfect agent you know that? You analyze everything so well."

What the fuck did that have to do with anything? Leon stared at him in bewilderment. Somehow he knew, Chris wasn't paying him a compliment, was merely making a light observation. He stared at him quietly.

"I mean, you know the answers to everything it seems. You know everything about everything. You got the answers in your pockets and under your belt dude. You got everything figured out. Which is why, it's so confusing to see you looking so lost all the time."

Leon felt like someone had literally doused him in frigid ice water. That's how quickly the goose bumps hit, and how fast he lost his breath. He stared at him. His eyes wide, looking like a kicked puppy.

The thoughts ran in Leon's head going a million miles. He was found out. He wasn't as strong as everyone thought he was. He didn't have his shit together. He was weak and helpless and so God damned small, it was surprising that anyone could see him at all. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but the desire to get up and run out as fast as he can began to take over. His mouth opened and closed, as he stutter and sputtered in coherent noises that he hoped were a string of lies that would allow him to save face.

Chris looked at him. His eyes full of sympathy, and…understanding?

"Why…do you figure that?" He finally managed to stutter out. He hoped his voice was strong and steady. But even to his own ears it sounded small and frightened.

"It's easy to spot someone, who's just like you."

Leon looked up at him, his eyes wide, like a small child who has realized that there is someone else out there who hurts just as much as he does. In theory, it was the same exact thing.

"Yeah?" his voice was soft, but no longer due to fear, but because of he had been holding so much in, for so long, it was like he himself, didn't know where to start.

Chris nodded his head. The silence was so heavy. Like pressure. Like going all the way to the bottom of the pool. Your ears would ring, your lungs would scream. You're body had t o struggle, just to reach the surface. But in this case, Leon had someone, who was used to drowning so much, that he was grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him up. Giving him the extra boast when his own body had given out.

"Leon. The reason I called you out, was because of how important you are to Claire. And how important Claire is to me. She knows you're hurting, but she can't talk to you about it; because she knows that you'll just shy away from her. She'd rather have you just be quiet, then not be near her at all. And, you've come to be pretty important to me too."

Leon looked up curiously now. His attention was on an all time high.

"In our line of work, we don't make friends. Cause we never know whose gonna be with us when tomorrow comes. But you…you're reliable. So it's easy to talk to you. And then I realized, you weren't just a government official sent to keep an eye on us. You were just some guy, like me. Almost exactly like me." He smiled bitterly. "You had Ada who was never yours, and then you lost Angela, and you were never hers, and I had Jill, with who I couldn't make that connection with, no matter how desperately I tried. And I tried man. I wanted to love her that way. I wanted to be loved that way. All that ended up happening was a I managed to fuck everything up by being aloof and uncaring, because I knew it wasn't what I wanted. She wasn't what I wanted, no matter how much time I spent with her."

"Yeah…" Leon's throat constricted at hearing his own story told to him through the mouth of another man, who instead of held it in the melancholy way that Leon held it too, but instead repeated it in a matter of fact way. Like this shit, like it was supposed to happen. Like the world is supposed to knock you on your ass and put their foot on your stomach, squeezing the life out of you, laughing as it watches you struggle to try and get back up.

"And then the girl we really wanted…" Chris' voice suddenly spiked with slight emotion. To anyone else, it still sounded the same. But Leon knew. He always knew. It's why he was lost all the fucking time. Leon clenched the bottle tighter, sure that any moment it would crack under the pressure of his fist along with his secrets.

Chris was treading into dangerous waters; waters that Leon himself refused to walk through all the way. It was like a swamp. Each step you took to get to the other side got harder. You found yourself getting tangled up, and stuck, and forced back. And before you know it, you're heading back the way you came, back to safety and security. Back to the familiar.

"We just let them go didn't we? Because we figured, that they didn't deserve what we had to offer. Two broken men. Two broken old men. You let Ashley go Leon, and you thought you were doing the right thing. But you really did it to torture yourself more didn't you? You didn't it to give yourself anther reason to hate yourself. Right?"

Leon looked up, blue eyes wide. "Why do you say that?" Why do you know everything?

"Because I did the same shit with Sheva man. Look, I get it. We sacrifice happiness because we think it's what we should be doing. We are these two fucked up guys, who have seen too much, and done too much, to even consider ourselves human. And then we got these two girls, who are literally the fucking light at the end of a tunnel, that you didn't even know had an end. And we just have to let them go. We can't bring them into our world. Because we don't wanna break 'em. We don't wanna ruin 'em. We don't wanna be the reason why they became what we are. Lost. You can't bring someone into your life, and not have them enter your world. Leon, I get it man. You aren't alone in this though. Stop thinking you are. I'm with you on this. Call me a kindred spirit." Chris grinned at him. But whether the smile was reassure himself or Leon, Leon wasn't entirely too sure.

Leon stared down at his hands, and not trusting to look at a man the mirror image of himself.

"Does it ever get any easier?"

With that, Chris let out a big, boisterous laugh. It was like the sun shinning through a storm cloud.

"Come on Kennedy, I thought you were smarter then that. When has anything in our line of work gotten easier?"

* * *

Well there ya go! Tell me what ya think!  
R&R guys! And I promise! I will be updating this a lot better from now on.


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